Date: Fri, 6 Jul 2012 22:47:16 -0400 (EDT)
From: Amanda Nightly
Subject: The Willcotts - Karie

The Willcotts - Karie (F/F, D/s, Consensual) by Amanda Nightly
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The  Willcotts - Karie Chapter  1
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"Yes  ma'am, I understand," Karie said to Mrs. Willcott over the phone. "I
'll try my  best. Goodbye."
Karie was a young assistant professor of History and Women's  Studies at
one of the top universities in the nation, but as she hung up the  phone and
leaned back in the comfortable chair in her office, the world in which  she
lived seemed different, as if a whole new perspective had come into view.
She had just had a brief ten-minute conversation with Mrs. Willcott, the
mother  of one of her freshman students, Alissa Willcott. Karie knew that Alissa
was a  bright girl who was doing well in her History of Women 101 class, but
otherwise  Alissa hadn't really made much of an impact on Karie so far this
semester.
By coincidence, it just so happened that Alissa was scheduled to visit
Karie's office hours this afternoon. Karie would have to think fast; she might
not have another chance to speak privately to Alissa for days, if not
weeks. As  she thought about her conversation with Mrs. Willcott and the
impending meeting  with Alissa, she lost herself in thought and fantasy, and her
hand slipped down  between her legs.
After a few minutes, a loud knock on the door jolted Karie  back to
reality.  Surely Alissa wasn't here yet! No, it was probably her  2:30 appointment.
"Come in?" Karie invited.
The door opened and the face of a  homely girl peeked through. It wasn't
Alissa.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Emma," Karie  said, pretending to have forgotten
about her 2:30 meeting. "I'm not going to be  able to meet with you today. Do
you think you could come back tomorrow or  Friday?"
Emma smiled and said, "Sure, professor, no problem." She ducked back  out
the door and shut it behind her.
Karie suspected that meeting with her  professor was the last thing that
Emma wanted to do. Any other day, Karie might  have felt offended by how
eagerly Emma left, but today Karie didn't care. She  had more important things to
worry about.  Alissa was coming!
Karie got  up from behind her desk and surveyed the small office. She
thought that whatever  she decided to do, she should try to make a definite
impression on Alissa when  the girl arrived. What better way to indicate the
change in their relationship  than by waiting for the girl on her knees? It
seemed like a fine idea, and it  made the tingle between her legs grow stronger.
She took her place in the middle  of the floor between her desk and the
office door. The room was carpeted, but  after a little while, Karie's knees
began to ache. She found she enjoyed this  submissive position, but even more
than that she hoped Alissa would be on  time.
Twenty minutes and two very sore knees later, Karie heard a knock at  the
door.
This was it! "Come in!" Karie said.
The door opened and Alissa,  a tall, thin, blonde-haired girl entered.
Karie had noticed how attractive the  girl was before, but now, from Karie's
perspective on the floor, the girl seemed  even more beautiful. "Welcome, my
Lady!"
Alissa was a bit surprised to see  her professor waiting for her on her
knees, but not quite as surprised as Karie  would have expected. "Oh no,"
Alissa groaned as she closed the door behind her,  "don't tell me . . ."
"I had a conversation with your mother on the phone a  little while ago,"
Karie was eager to explain. "She suggested that I show you a  bit more . . .
respect--the kind of respect that a young woman in your social  station
deserves. Your mother made me realize that even though I'm the professor  and
you are the student, in other more important ways you are the superior, my
Lady, and I am the inferior."
"I knew it!" the coed said, clearly unhappy.  "God! I'll bet my mother
has called all of my female professors. This is so  embarrassing! Listen,
Professor, you don't have to . . . do this." She gestured  awkwardly at Karie
as the woman continued to kneel. "I'm not any more `superior'  than anyone
else! I'm just a normal college student!"
"But you're not! I  admit that when you first started this semester, I didn
't realize who you were.  I had no idea that you were one of THE Willcotts.
Why, your family could  probably buy this entire university!"
"What does that have to do with  anything?"
"Wealth means power, and your extraordinary wealth gives you  extraordinary
power, the power to do what you want whenever you want to whomever  you
want.  It's your power that brings forth my own subservience, that  urges me to
kneel before you so I can serve and obey you, my Lady."
Alissa  rolled her eyes. "But don't you find it humiliating? Isn't there
some part of  you that wants to stand up?"
Karie looked down and blushed slightly. "To be  honest, my Lady, this is
something that I have long fantasized about. Of course,  I despise how our
misogynistic, male-dominated culture objectifies women, but  when it comes to
women using and dominating other women . . . well, let's just  say that the
idea excites me. You have no idea how much scholarly work as been  devoted to
describing and detailing the debasement that women have suffered at  the
hands of men over the centuries, but very little research has been done to
describe the power relations among women. It's an area of study which has
become  my field of expertise lately. What I've learned is that there have
always been  certain women -- certain very powerful and wealthy women--who have
been able to,  shall we say, have their way with any person, including any
other woman, that  they wish.  When I spoke to your mother, I realized that she
was one of  these women--and someday, you will be too, my Lady."
"But I don't want to be  like that, Professor! I keep telling my mother I
just want to be normal, but she  keeps trying to drag me in to her perverted
lifestyle."
"You shouldn't be so  resistant," Karie argued. "History has shown that
there have always been two  classes: the elite few and the subjugated many.
With only so many resources in  the world, we can't all live among the elite.
There must be some people who go  without--or to think of it another way,
some people are themselves resources, to  be bought, sold, traded, and used.
Look at me: I'm an intelligent, educated  woman, yet I realize that despite
my education, I'm not one of the elites.  Therefore, I must be one of those
who are on this earth to serve the elite  class.
"For example," Karie said, at last getting up from her knees to go to  the
bookshelf, "there was a Roman empress who used to throw elaborate feasts
for  other noblewomen where they were attended only by their favorite slave
girls.  The ladies would enjoy the lavish meal, the very best food and wine
that the empire had to offer, while the slave girls would feast on their
ladies'  pussies.  There's another story of a secret society of wealthy,
bisexual  women in Nazi Germany who took Jewish women and used them as their
personal sex  slaves before their husbands, tragically, discovered what was
going on and  forced the women to ship the slaves off to extermination camps. Or--
ah! here's  the book! -- there was a 15th century Bavarian princess who
liked to treat her  ladies-in-waiting like dogs. She liked to take them out to
her father's private  hunting grounds where they were sent to chase after
another lady-in-waiting who  was dressed as a fox--here! there's a
reproduction of a woodcut image of the  scene . . ." Karie brought the book over to
Alissa and showed the page to her  student. The engraving showed a lady on
horseback watching as half a dozen naked  women in collars crawled after another
naked woman who wore a fox's mask.
"That's sick!" Alissa declared. "My mother uses women like that, too, but
I  don't want any part of it!"
"Please, my Lady," Karie said, putting down the  book and dropping to her
knees once more. There was a growing desperation in her  voice as she sensed
she was losing Alissa. "Don't turn your back on the pleasure  and
privilege that is rightfully yours! Subject me to your discipline! Dominate  me!
Make me your slave!" Karie closed her eyes and leaned forward, trying to  kiss
Alissa's foot, but she found only empty air. She heard a door opening and
opened her eyes just in time to see Alissa's feet walking out the door of the
 office.
Karie was disappointed, but she wasn't about to give up. She got up  from
the floor and returned to her desk, taking the book with the woodcut
illustrations with her. She set the book on her desk and stared at the images of
sexual debauchery, of domination and submission. As she began to caress
herself  through her clothing and masturbate, she knew this was what she wanted
more than  anything. One way or another, Karie was determined to make her
fantasy come  true.


"Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Willcott," Karie said as she entered the
older woman's home office. "I know how busy you are." A week had passed
since  Karie and Alissa's meeting. Karie was dressed professionally, in a navy
blue  knee-length skirt, a white, short-sleeved blouse, and a brand new pair
of heeled  shoes. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a neat, simple
ponytail, and  she wore a modest amount of make-up. Mrs. Willcott thought the
girl looked like  she was interviewing for a job; she was even holding a
slim portfolio  folder.
"It's not a problem, Karie," Mrs. Willcott said from behind her desk.  "I
was actually thinking of calling you back, just to see how things were
going  between you and my daughter."
"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely successful,  ma'am," Karie confessed.
"I told her about our conversation, and I've tried to  reason with her, to
convince her what her role in society should be. I guess I  just haven't
been persuasive. I'm very sorry."
"Don't be so hard on  yourself," the older woman said with a smile. "I'm
sure you've tried your best.  Alissa has been very stubborn lately. Even her
older sister and I haven't been  able to get through to her. I just don't
know what we're going to do!"
"I  promise I'll keep trying, Mrs. Willcott," Karie said. "In the
meantime, it's the  subject of our phone conversation the other day that is the
reason for my  visit."
"Oh?"
"Yes ma'am. I've hardly been able to think about anything  else since we
spoke.  It's completely changed the way I think about the  world now,
especially my research."
"Your research?"
"Yes ma'am. As you  know, I'm a history professor. My emphasis is women's
history. I had been  studying it from a feminist perspective--looking at how
women's lives have  challenged the male patriarchal social structures even
as their stories have  been erased from the phallocentric historical
chronicle."
"That sounds  interesting," Mrs. Willcott lied. She actually never liked
history and she was  afraid this young woman was going to bore her to tears.
"It is, ma'am.  However, our conversation the other day has altered some
of my fundamental  assumptions. In fact, in the last few days I've even
written a paper on the  subject which I hope to present at a conference--as soon
as I can get it  accepted." She opened her portfolio and pulled out a thick
document. She handed  it across the desk to Mrs. Willcott. The title read, "'
Dominate Me, Mistress':  The Necessity of Slavery in a Post-Capitalist
Feminist Society."
Perhaps I  was wrong, Mrs. Willcott thought to herself. Maybe history isn't
so bad after  all.
"If you'll allow me to summarize the article, ma'am, my thesis is that
the abolition of slavery in western society is an aberration which will soon
be  resolved. Marx, I believe, misinterpreted the philosopher Hegel when he
predicted a future of constant progress, of increasing rights for the
working  classes. For most of human history, slavery as been the norm. It is only
recently that western societies have abolished it. Thus, the abolition of
slavery in history is the antithesis to the thesis of slavery. Eventually,
perhaps quite soon, there will be a new synthesis: a society that will merge
 many of the new rights that women have gained with a reinvention of
slavery as  an acceptable reification of human labor."
Mrs. Willcott smiled. "So how do  you envision this new era of slavery?"
"Well, since my area of concentration  has been feminist history, my paper,
of course, examines how inter-female  relationships will adapt to the new
social environment; in other words, I  predict we shall see an increase in
the numbers of mistresses and their female  slaves. Since slavery has
historically been practiced by the wealthiest citizens  in a kingdom or empire, it
makes sense that most of the slaves of the future  will also be owned by the
wealthy and the ruling classes."
"Yes, that does  make sense," Mrs. Willcott said. "So then someone like
Alissa--or myself--would be  likely to own slaves?"
"That's correct, ma'am."
Mrs. Willcott stood up and  started walking around her desk towards Karie,
who continued to sit demurely in  her seat. Karie was forced to look up, and
as she did, she saw how beautiful  Mrs. Willcott was. She was clearly older
than Alissa, of course, but she had the  same blonde hair (though with a
bit of gray), the same trim figure, and there  was a womanly confidence about
her that only came with age. In some respects,  she was more attractive than
her own daughter. "And what about you, Karie? How  do you think you would
fit in to this new society?"
Karie cast her glance  downwards. "Well, my family has never had much
money. I attended graduate school  at Princeton, but it required that I take out
some rather substantial student  loans. In fact, I'm still paying those
loans off."
Mrs. Willcott leaned  against her desk. "So I guess that would make you . .
."
Karie looked up at  the older woman. "I would rank among the class of
slaves, yes ma'am."
"And  that doesn't bother you? That you might have to serve as some
mistress's slave?  Doesn't it contradict your feminist beliefs?"
"Not necessarily, ma'am. It  only requires an abridgment--a synthesis, to
use Hegel's terminology--of the  feminist gains that have been made in the
last century. Superior women, such as  yourself, would still have complete
freedom to do whatever you wish, while  inferior women, like me, would proudly
enter into our slavery with only one goal  in mind: to make sure that you
enjoy your freedom to its fullest. It would be  like a symbiotic relationship.
You would rule and we would serve. You would  command and we would obey.
You would take and we would give. You would seek  comfort and pleasure and our
labor would provide it. It's a perfect dichotomy."
"Well, I can see how I would benefit, but I don't see how you would find
any  satisfaction from the arrangement."
"Yes, ma'am. Please let me explain. As a  member of the dominant class,
your satisfaction comes from being the recipient  of the pleasure and luxury
that a slave would provide. As for the slaves, the  concept of personhood
must be altered in the mistress-slave relationship. When  the slave submits
herself, and her identity, to the will of her mistress, the  slave becomes an
extension of the mistress herself. She--or perhaps I should say  `it'--no
longer has its own separate identity. Only mistresses such as yourself  would
still qualify as `persons' while slaves, like me, would be treated like
simply a piece of property, an item, a thing. We would be tools for powerful
women like you to use. And we would be single-minded in our devotion and our
efforts to please you because only through your satisfaction and pleasure
would  our lives have meaning."
"Aren't you afraid that if you gave up your freedom  that I might abuse my
power?"
"No, ma'am. By definition, there's no such  thing as an abuse of
omnipotent power. Whatever you desire is the slave's law.  My--I mean, a slave's only
concern would be how to best fulfill your wishes. If  I--I mean, if the
slave failed, then discipline would of course need to be  employed and the slave
would accept it--indeed, strict discipline might even add  to the slave's
sense of satisfaction." Mrs. Willcott could see that Karie was  starting to
get flustered.  Her cheeks were turning pink and her eyes were  roaming up
and down the older woman's body.
"Well, then," Mrs. Willcott said  with a smirk as the tone of her voice
grew more aggressive, "if your role in  life is to serve as a slave, then
shouldn't you get down on your knees, where  you belong?"
Without hesitation, Karie slid out of her chair and knelt before  the older
woman. "Yes ma'am--I mean, yes, my Domina. Slaves, of course, must  always
kneel before their mistresses."
Mrs. Willcott raised an eyebrow. She'd  never heard that "Domina" title
before, but she liked it. "You wish to serve me,  as my slave?"
"Yes, Domina. I desire it more than anything."
"You desire  it? But your desires don't matter, remember? Only my desires
matter."
"Of  course, Domina. I meant to say that if it pleases you, you may claim
me as one  of your slaves."
"One of my slaves? So Alissa told you that I have  others?"
"Yes, Domina."
"And that doesn't bother you: that you would be  but one of many slaves
who serve me."
"It doesn't bother me at all, Domina.  In fact, it stands to reason. A
powerful woman like yourself should be  surrounded by slaves--hundreds of them,
thousands! All of them women! All of them  serving you!" Karie was starting
to swoon. Mrs. Willcott could see she was  extremely turned on.
"So how would you serve as my slave? If I claim you,  what can I expect you
to do for me?
"Anything you wish, my Domina. I am yours  to command."
"Tell me."
"I could serve you at work, Domina. In your  office, without pay. As a
secretary or an assistant."
"But I only hire the  very best employees. And frankly, there's no place
at my charity for a worthless  historian like yourself."
"As you wish, Domina. Perhaps I could serve you  here in your home, as a
maid or a cook."
"But I already have plenty of help  around the house--and yes, most of them
are my slaves as well."
"Then perhaps  . . ."
"Perhaps what?"
"Perhaps . . ." Karie said, staring lustfully at  her mistress's skirt and
the pussy she knew was beneath it, "I could serve as  your pussy slave."
"Oh? Now that sounds interesting. What would you offer me  in that capacity?
"
"I offer you my tongue, Domina. It would be at your  disposal at all hours
of the day." She licked her lips hungrily, looking up into  the older woman'
s eyes. "It would worship your pussy, tend to all of its  desires. Your
beautiful, delicious pussy would be the center of this slave's  existence. The
rest of this slave's body could be naked, perhaps chained to your  bed
awaiting your use. Your pleasure would be this slave's only reason for  being.
This slave would even deny itself pleasure, if you commanded it. This  slave's
own orgasms, like the rest of its body, would belong only to you,  Domina."
Karie seemed to be given over completely to lust as she imagined what  she
described.
"I think I like the sound of that. Take off your clothes. I  don't think
you'll need them anymore."
"Yes, Domina," Karie said. Without  standing up, she very quickly removed
her blouse, skirt, and heels. Mrs.  Willcott saw that the young woman hadn't
been wearing a bra or panties. That  little slut! she thought.
When she was naked, Karie resumed her submissive  position on her knees. "
This pussy slave belongs to you now, Domina, and it begs  to serve."
"And serve it will," Mrs. Willcott said. She walked back around  her desk
and picked up Karie's essay. She threw it in the trash. "I really don't
give a shit about that." She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a long
 leather leash. She tied it securely around her new slave's neck and
commanded,  "Heel, my slave. We're going to my bedroom where I'm going to ride
your face all  afternoon."
"Yes, Domina." Led by the leash, Karie crawled out of the room on  her
hands and knees. Her pussy was wet and her tongue was salivating. She  couldn't
wait to begin servicing her new mistress.




The Willcotts - Karie Chapter 2
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Two  weeks later . .  .
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Alissa  Willcott walked up to the front door of her parents' mansion and
wondered what  she should do. There was a time, not so long ago, when Alissa
would have just  walked right in, after all, this was where she grew up. But
having gone away to  college, and having learned about her mother's sexual
perversions, Alissa  suddenly felt like a stranger standing here at the door.
She decided to ring the  doorbell.
After waiting for a minute, the door opened and Alissa was greeted  by one
of the maids. Alissa didn't recognize the young woman; her mother must  have
hired her since Alissa had moved out. As the maid politely invited the
college girl inside, Alissa wondered if this maid was her mother's slave, too.
It made Alissa's stomach turn just to imagine it.
"This way, ma'am," the maid  said. "Your mother will see you in the
library."
Alissa followed the maid,  peeking into the rooms they passed as if she had
never been in this house  before. Alissa half expected to find the house
had been turned into a  whorehouse, every room filled with scenes of
debauchery, culminating in her  mother engaged in some crazed lesbian orgy in the
library with half a dozen  slaves. Instead, Alissa found the house was empty,
and the library was exactly  as she had remembered it when she lived here.
"Please, have a seat, ma'am,"  the maid said. "Your mother will be
downstairs in a moment. Would you care for  some refreshment while you wait?"
"No, thanks," Alissa said in her  friendliest voice. "I'm fine."
The maid offered a small curtsy, and then she  disappeared out the door.
Alissa didn't immediately sit down. Instead, she  walked around the room,
looking at the books on the walls. When Alissa was a  little girl, she used
to spend hours in this room, lying on the floor, reading  books. Now,
although she recognized many of those books she had enjoyed still on  the shelves,
this place seemed different, corrupted. She wondered, when she used  to
spend hours in here reading, was her mother playing her sick domination games
somewhere else in the enormous house? How did she do it without Alissa ever
even  knowing what was going on? It almost felt like her childhood had been a
lie  somehow.
Her quiet reflection was interrupted by the sound of high heels  walking
down a flight of stairs. When the maid had led Alissa to the library,  she had
been as silent as a snowflake, so Alissa figured it was her mother. The
girl took a seat on one of the small leather sofas and watched the door of the
 library. When her mother entered, Alissa was shocked by what she saw.
Her  mother was dressed simply, wearing a long-sleeved white blouse and a
long, dark,  matronly skirt. She was the one wearing the heels, though they
were partly  concealed in the shadow of the skirt. Her outfit seemed
conservative, almost  old-fashioned, but Alissa had seen her wear outfits similar to
that before, so  she wasn't surprised by her mother's lack of fashion
sense.
No, what shocked  Alissa was that her mother was followed into the library
by her history  professor, Karie! And Karie was completely naked, except for
a steel collar  around her neck! Her tongue was sticking out, and it was
pierced with an  unusually large tongue stud. Clipped onto the stud was a
light, thin leash, the  other end of which Mrs. Willcott held in her hand. Karie
made sure to walk  directly behind her mistress so that the leash had
plenty of slack and didn't  pull too tightly on her tongue. Mrs. Willcott sat
down in a large, comfortable  chair opposite her daughter while the slave knelt
down on the floor beside her,  her hands behind her back.
"Professor . . ." Alissa began. But she didn't  know what to say, she was
so surprised.
Mrs. Willcott smiled and explained,  "Earlier this month, your former
professor came to me and offered herself as a  slave. After some consideration,
and after trying her out, I accepted--isn't that  right, slave?"
"Yethh, `omina," the kneeling slave struggled to say.
Mrs.  Willcott smiled at the slave's difficulty and said, "Her tongue, as
you can see,  belongs to me." The older woman unclipped the leash from the
slave's tongue  piercing. Karie's tongue disappeared inside of her mouth for
an instant--just  long enough to be moistened, and then the tip of the
tongue reappeared between  Karie's lips, as if it were announcing its readiness
to serve.
"I haven't  seen you at school in almost two weeks," Alissa said to Karie,
trying to make  small talk with the naked woman in a vain attempt to defuse
the awkwardness of  the situation. "Professor Walters has been filling in
for you. I asked her where  you were, but she just blushed and changed the
subject. I was starting to get  worried. Have you been here the entire time?"
Karie looked up at her mistress  for permission to speak. Mrs. Willcott
nodded.  Karie turned to Alissa and  said, "Yes, this slave belongs to the
Domina now. It has quit its job at the  university."
"But why would you do that? What about your career?"
"This  slave has no need for a career. Its service to the Domina is its
only  purpose."
Alissa shook her head. She couldn't understand how someone would  just give
up her life like that. And for what? "So what do you do for my  mother?"
Karie's former student asked. "Are you a maid or something?"
"This  slave serves as the Domina's pussy slave."
"What?!" Alissa was stunned. She  looked at her mother who wore a smug
expression on her face. "Is she serious?"  Alissa demanded. "She . . . she . .
."
Alissa couldn't even say the words, so  her mother said them for her: "She
licks my pussy on command. That's her job  now."
"Oh mother! How could you make her do that? That's so gross!"
Mrs.  Willcott took offense. "I don't have to make her do anything at all.
In fact,  Karie's service was her idea. That's what you have to learn
about these slaves.  They're doing exactly what they want to do." She looked
down at the young woman  kneeling on the floor. You like licking my pussy don'
t you?"
"Yes, Domina!  This slave is grateful to be your pussy slave!"
"See?"
"I still can't  understand why anyone would do that," Alissa insisted.
"A demonstration  then?" Mrs. Willcott snapped her fingers and said, "
Position--in front of  Alissa." Karie immediately knew what to do. On her hands
and knees, she crawled  towards Alissa until she was directly in front of
her mistress's daughter. She  turned her eyes towards the floor and waited
patiently for the next command.
Alissa looked alarmed. "What are you doing, mother?"
"It's called  hospitality, dear. You're the guest, so you get to use her
first.
Go ahead,  let your former professor lick you."
Alissa immediately crossed her legs and  held them together tightly. "No! I
. . .
I couldn't! Not here, not now--and  not at all!"
"Don't be such a prude. Trust me, you'll enjoy it."
"No,  thank you."
Mrs. Willcott sighed and shrugged. "Your loss. Karie? You may  come over
here and serve me."
"Yes, Domina," Karie replied happily as she  crawled back to Mrs. Willcott
who was pulling up her skirt. Karie ducked her  head inside. Mrs. Willcott
draped the hem of her skirt over Karie's shoulders so  that Karie's head
was completely out of view. There was a large bulge beneath  the skirt where
Karie's head was.  Alissa watched as a subtle expression of  pleasure came
over her mother's face, and she could hear a soft slurping  sound.
"I can't believe you're making her do that!" Alissa protested. "And in
front of me, too! It's disgusting!" She couldn't even look in her mother's
direction. She cast her eyes towards the window and tried to stare at the
nicely  manicured lawn, the blue November sky, and the bright sun. She
grasped for any  bit of normalcy in this crazy situation. As hard as she tried,
though, her eyes  were drawn again and again back to the perverted scene in
front of her.
"I  want this be a lesson to you," her mother replied. She seemed almost
unaffected  by the head beneath her skirt as she spoke to her daughter,
almost as if Karie  wasn't there at all. "Never let a slave go to waste. When a
woman offers herself  to you, take her! Even if you didn't want to keep this
one as a permanent slave,  you could at least have used her to get yourself
off a few times. You could have  commanded her to give you an A in her
class, and when the semester was over, you  could have dumped her."
"That's so cruel!"
"Believe me, Alissa, they enjoy  the cruelty. If you aren't cruel then
they aren't happy." As if to emphasize her  point, Mrs. Willcott reached down
and grabbed at the head beneath her skirt. She  pulled the head further into
her pussy and squeezed her legs together. Alissa  could hear a muffled
squeal from between her mother's legs.
"Fine!" Alissa  said. "I've learned my lesson! Now can you please stop
making her do  that?"
Mrs. Willcott smiled as she released her tight grip on her slave's  head,
but she
didn't command the slave to stop licking. "You'll get used to  this. Don'
t think
of it as sex per se. It's not like being with a man. This  is simply a
diversion,
entertainment, simple pleasure! For the slave, of  course, it's much more.
But
for women like us--"
"Women like you--" Alissa  insisted.
"For women like us," Mrs. Willcott repeated, "it's just a part of  our
lifestyle, a part of who we are and our role in society. Don't be so  shocked.
I'm sure you've seen it yourself--you must have. Your professor here  wasn'
t the first to offer herself to you. If you think about it, you'll realize
that there have been others. Haven't there?"
Alissa didn't say anything. She  squirmed a bit in her seat and tried to
stare out the window again.
"Another  professor perhaps? Or a teacher from your prep school? One of
your classmates?  The girls from your dorm at college? A clerk in a store? I
remember one of the  first times I witnessed a woman behaving subserviently
towards me was when I was  a teenager. My mother and I were shopping for
shoes. There was a salesgirl, a  few years older than me, who was helping me try
on shoes. She remained on her  knees the entire time. When I would stand up
to try out a pair, she would simply  kneel up, cross her hands in front of
her, and say things like, `Those look so  wonderful on you, miss.' I think
my mother understood better what was happening.  I remember at one point my
mother stood next to the kneeling salesgirl, put her  hand on her hair, and
pet her like she was petting an animal.  She behaved  like it was all
perfectly normal."
"And weren't you freaked out by that?"  Alissa asked. "I would be."
"Maybe a little. But more than anything, it  excited me to know that it was
possible to have that kind of power over others.  After we left the store,
my mother sat me down and explained how some women will  behave like that
around us.  I started paying more attention to the girls  and women I met, and
in time I learned how to tell the submissives apart from  the rest. You'll
learn how to do it too. It's just a matter of practice and  experience. Not
every submissive you encounter will be like Karie here--" Mrs.  Willcott ge
ntly pet her slave's head as the young woman continued to service her  "--not
every woman will try to give herself to you. But you have seen others
behave similarly, haven't you?"
Alissa thought about Jill, a close friend of  hers from her prep school
days.  Jill was always hanging around her,  offering to do things for her.
Alissa suspected that maybe Jill had a girl crush  for her, but now she wondered
if it wasn't much more than that.
As if able to  read her daughter's mind, Mrs. Willcott said, "There have
been others, haven't  there?"
"I--I think so. You remember my friend Jill, don't you? I think she  was
kind of submissive, I guess. But how can you tell for sure? Aren't you
embarrassed when you're wrong?"
"Just trust your instincts. It's true that  not all women are potential
slaves, but in my experience, I'd say about half of  the women I come in
contact with could be--with the right encouragement. For  instance, last month, I
had a private meeting with a government lawyer to talk  about one of the
projects the foundation is working on. She was a lovely, young  thing who kept
calling me `ma'am' even though she didn't represent me. At one  point in
our negotiations, some of her papers dropped to the floor and she
immediately left her chair, got down on her knees with me sitting just two feet  away,
and cleaned up her mess.  My instinct told me she was willing, and  when
she dropped some more papers five minutes later and again went to her  knees,
I said to her, `You like being there, don't you?' She played dumb and  said
that she didn't understand. I said, `On your knees, in front of me--you
like  it, don't you?' Her face turned red as she tried to stammer out some
kind of  explanation. I simply stood up, pulled up my skirt, sat back down in
my chair,  spread my legs and ordered her to lick me.  She didn't even
hesitate--she  dove right in to my pussy. By the time she left my office, she wasn'
t calling me  `ma'am' anymore; she was calling me `Mistress'."
As mother and daughter were  talking, meanwhile, Karie was busy beneath
Mrs.  Willcott's skirt, putting  her tongue to use. She could hear her mistress
and her mistress's daughter  talking, but here, in the darkness, their
voices seemed distant, and she didn't  pay them any attention. Her focus was
entirely on the hot, moist, mature pussy  beneath her tongue; that was her
entire world and the only thing that mattered.  If Karie had a choice, she would
have preferred to remove her mistress's skirt.  The fabric that draped over
her head just seemed to get in the way, but Karie  had been trained to
service the Domina in this way before, and it wasn't for her  to decide anyway.
Only Karie's slave-tongue and her mistress's beautiful  mature pussy that
it was eager to lick were all that mattered. She set about  trying to
pleasure the Domina exactly as Mrs. Willcott had trained her these  last two
weeks. First she licked slowly along either side of the woman's labia.  Then she
lightly licked the lips themselves. As they bloomed, she pressed her  tongue
into the hot pussy, pressing lightly at first but then much harder.
Eventually, when her mistress was ready, she would apply her tongue and lips to
the woman's clit and bring her to orgasm.
Karie loved doing this. It exceeded  her wildest fantasies. Before Mrs.
Willcott claimed her, she had often dreamed  of what it might be like to be a
sex slave to a strong woman, but the reality  was so much better. The domina
had proven to be a cruel mistress: She treated  Karie like an object. She
was rude and nasty to her slave. She called new slave  vile names and seemed
unconcerned for Karie's needs--but all this only turned  Karie on even more.
One of her mistress's commandments was that Karie was not  allowed to
orgasm without her mistress's permission, and, in fact, Karie had not  been
allowed a single orgasm since beginning her servitude two weeks earlier.  This
left her perpetually horny, especially at moments like this when her tongue
was buried in a pussy. Karie's own pussy was literally dripping, and from
time  to time her hips would involuntarily hump and thrust in the air,
desperate for  any kind of contact that would at last bring her off and give her the
orgasm she  needed so badly.
But Karie resisted the urge to satisfy herself. Every moment  that she
denied herself release was a further demonstration of her submission to  her
mistress.  In this position: naked, on her hands and knees, with her  face
buried in the Domina's crotch, she felt like a total slave. No longer a  human
being, she was simply a sex toy, a physical manifestation of raw lust.
Giving pleasure to her mistress was her sole purpose, and to that end she would
do anything Mrs.  Willcott wanted, obey any command. Karie's feelings of
submission fueled her lust, and her lust spurred her towards deeper
submission.
Mrs. Willcott was aware of her slave's need. She could see the  wild hips
and she could even smell Kari's arousal. But Mrs. Willcott honestly  didn't
care about Karie's satisfaction. The girl was her slave, a toy whose only
purpose was to serve.
Outside the skirt, Alissa and her mother heard the  doorbell ring. As they
waited for the maid to answer the door, Alissa felt a  sudden sense of
panic, thinking that someone else might discover her mother's  perversity. She
was relieved when Mrs. Willcott pushed Karie's head from her and  said, "That'
s enough, slave. You may stop."
Reluctantly, because she knew her  mistress wasn't yet satisfied, Karie
climbed out from beneath the skirt. As Mrs.  Willcott straightened her
clothing, Karie knelt in front of Alissa's mother(her  nose, lips, and chin covered
with a thin sheen), placed her hands behind her  back, and bowed her head. "
This slave is grateful for the chance to service the  Domina's perfect pussy,
" she said, as she had been trained to say.
They heard  footsteps approach. Alissa turned towards the door of the
library and saw the  maid leading Alison Willcott into the room. Alissa was
surprised to see her  older sister. Alison looked like a younger version of their
mother. Her long,  wavy, blonde hair, and her cold, blue eyes resembled
pictures that Alissa had  seen of her mother before Alison and Alissa were
born. Alison was five years  older than Alissa. She had graduated at the top of
her class from law school  last spring and had immediately been offered a
job at one of the most  prestigious law firms in the country. She was young,
beautiful, and ambitious,  and while Alissa was different from her in a lot
of ways, Alissa had always  admired her big sister.
Alissa wondered what Alison would say when she saw  the naked Karie on the
floor, but Alison didn't seem fazed at all. She simply  took a seat near
Alissa, across from Mrs. Willcott, and watched the  scene.
After smiling a greeting to Alison, Mrs. Willcott said to Karie, "I'm
finished with you for now. Return to your cage in the basement. Perhaps I will
use your tongue again later this evening."
"As you wish, Domina."
"And  slave, do you remember your first rule?"
"Yes, Domina. This slave may not  orgasm without your permission."
"That's right. You may go."
"Yes,  Domina," Karie said worshipfully. She bowed down, kissed her
mistress's feet,  and then stood up and turned to face the other two young women,
noticing Alison  for the first time. She acknowledged the older sister first
with small curtsy  and a "Mistress Alison." Then she turned, repeated the
curtsy, and said to  Alissa, "My Lady." Alissa thought she almost sounded
smug, as if to imply, "See,  I told you this was what I wanted!"
The maid, who had been waiting nearby  after showing Alison in, approached
and clipped a leash to Karie's collar. The  slave obediently followed the
maid out of the room.
When Karie was gone,  Alissa asked, "Why does she call you, `Domina'?"
Her mother shrugged. "That's  what the little slut prefers to call me. It'
s something Latin, I think. I don't  know, I always hated history. The slut
does have a nice tongue,  though."
"Mother! She is my professor!"
"Was your professor. Don't get so  excited, dear. Someone might think you'
re jealous instead of pretending  disgust."
"I am NOT jealous! And I'm not so much disgusted as I am  horrified."
"Well, if you aren't willing to use a slave when she offers  herself to
you, then I will. There's no point in letting a lovely creature like  that go
to waste.  She's a little too eager, though. I doubt I'll use her  for much
longer. It's always more fun if you have to force them--just a  little."
Alissa turned to her sister and asked, "Did you know about  this?"
Alison smiled, "Of course. I met Karie a few days ago. I even let her
practice her oral skills on me."
"She's gotten much better since you used  her," Mrs. Willcott said.
"I'll have to give her another try some time,  then."
Mrs. Willcott turned to her younger daughter and said, "I asked Alison  to
take you out today."
"Where?"
"I want her to show you the lifestyle.  She was kind enough to take a day
off from work. Maybe if you won't listen to  me, you'll listen to your big
sister.  You always looked up to  her."
"Are you ready, then?" Alison asked.
Alissa quickly stood up. She  couldn't get out of this house fast enough.

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